


Sensitive to Bees

by IrkenWhisper



Category: Homestar Runner
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note When Applicable, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Word Prompts, References to Alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-08-28 11:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrkenWhisper/pseuds/IrkenWhisper
Summary: A compilation of fifty one word prompts not in chronological order that focus on the relationship between Strong Bad and Marzipan.All fifty words were chosen by me, put in a list randomizer then written in the new order. Ten prompts per chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**01\. Fear**

"You know...we only have two years left."

Marzipan nodded pensively. "Yes, but we don't have to be scared about it."

Strong Bad looked at her incredulously. "But our world's practically crumbling around us! How is that not something to be scared about—"

"Strong Bad?" she cut in.

"Yeah?"

"You do realize that it's just the Flash site that's going defunct, right? We're still going to make it out alive. I mean, we're on YouTube now _and_ we've got the new site as well."

Strong Bad pulled his knees to his chest and pouted. "Yeah, yeah..." he grumbled. "It still sucks though."

**02\. Goodbye**

Even if he was rude and, quite frankly, really annoying, Marzipan still couldn't help but feel a little sad when he'd leave after their weekly baking lesson.

**03\. Drinks**

Strong Bad stuck his head in Marzipan's fridge and noisily rummaged through it. "Uh, Marzipan?"

"Yes?"

"Where do you keep the Cold Ones? All that's in here is this weird, chunky, green milk."

"Those are my vegetable smoothies, Strong Bad."

"...What?"

**04\. Sand**

"Whatcha doing?"

"Buildin' a super cool sand fortress."

Marzipan bent down to look at the mound of sand in front of Strong Bad with pity. "Doesn't look much like a fortress to me."

"It's not _finished yet_."

**05\. Choice**

"So what do you think would be funnier? A prank that involves stuffing Homestar's pillow cases with a bunch of enraged and hungry scorpions or a prank that's basically the same as that one but with vengeful, rabid chinchillas instead?"

Marzipan looked up from her newspaper to see the excited wrestler. "Hm, how about neither?" She returned her attention to her paper and frowned. "You're usually much more creative than this..."

**06\. Surprise**

"Did I ever tell you? Cool Tapes and Limozeen once planned a collab."

Strong Bad spat out his drink, rudely spewing it all over Marzipan's table. "You're lying."

Marzipan frowned. "No, I'm not. As a matter of fact, I was supposed to play an instrumental part in their big comeback," she replied defensively.

"Yeah, well you didn't, did you?"

The blonde straightened in her seat. "Well, I would have! But..." She sunk back into her chair. "...I kind of...didn't call them back." 

Strong Bad leaned back in his chair and looked at the woman with disdain. "Wow. You were _so close_ to impressing me and then you freakin' blew it." He shook his head. "So close."

**07\. Help**

"All right, before we begin we need to get the ingredients."

"Already on it," Strong Bad said as he made his way to one of Marzipan's cupboards. As he reached for the flour, he realized that it was just a few inches too high. "Crap," he muttered.

"What's wrong—" Marzipan whirled around to see Strong Bad standing on the tips of his toes straining to reach anything that was within the cupboard. "Do you need help?" she asked, barely stifling a laugh.

The masked man growled. "No, I don't!" He snatched a chair, placed it under the cupboard and proceeded to climb on top of it. "I don't need no freakin' help," he grumbled as he stormed his way back with the flour.

"If it makes you feel any better, I also have to use a chair to—"

"Can we just bake the stupid cake already?"

**08\. Cut**

"Marzipan, I'm telling you, it's _fine!_ "

The woman pulled the wrestler's bleeding arm towards her. "No, it's not. If you leave it unattended, it could get infected!"

Strong Bad groaned as Marzipan put a brightly colored bandage over the cut. His brothers were never going to let him live this down.

**09\. Nature**

Strong Bad wasn't really into nature. Sure, he occasionally went outside for email related purposes or maybe to play some badminton or to mess about in Strong Badia. But other than that he was always indoors. It wasn't that nature was awful or anything, he just preferred being in front of a computer or a TV screen with a controller in hand. But if Marzipan wanted to go bird watching, then he was going bird watching.

**10\. Realization**

"You've been hanging out with Marzipan a lot lately. Are you two friends?"

"NO, WE ARE NOT FRIENDS!" Strong Bad shouted. "We just bake together and host a shopping channel together and—" Strong Bad's rant grew slower and quieter. "—hang out with each other and talk...and...oh no."

Homestar smiled. "Aww, you _do_ like each other! How swee—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Strong Bad swiftly punched the athlete, shutting him up.


	2. Chapter 2

**11\. Cheer**

He knew he wouldn't be able to make it to the finish line before Homestar. That guy was practically built for running—it was in his _name_. Strong Bad could train and train but he still wouldn't be able to match his rival's speed. But when he heard Marzipan cheering for him from the bleachers, he felt like he had a chance.

**12.** **Exhausted**

"Marzipan, would you just leave me alone? It's been a long day."

The blonde remained unmoved from her spot next to Strong Bad's stool. "Would you like to talk about it?" she asked softly.

Strong Bad folded his arms on top of his computer desk and buried his face in them. "...Yeah," he whispered.

**13\. Note**

All of the fun in stealing pies from Marzipan's window sill was nullified when she started leaving notes like "You're not very sneaky" and "P.S. I made your favorite!"

**14\. Song**

Marzipan smiled anxiously at her audience of one. "So...what do you think? Was it good?"

Strong Bad scratched his head, thoughtful of his friend's new song. "Eh, I dunno. It'd probably sound better if you used an electric guitar, maybe rewrote all the lyrics, and if it were a hard rock song. Other than that, it was pretty decent."

Marzipan slumped a bit. "But that would make it an entirely different song..."

"I know!"

**15\. Phone**

Maybe she did worry too much. So what if he hadn't called her in a few weeks? He wasn't mad at her, was he? Did she hurt his feelings somehow? It was unlike her to get so upset over these types of things and besides, maybe Strong Bad was just busy. But even so, she couldn't help but wonder if he didn't want to talk to her anymore. Hesitantly, Marzipan picked up her phone and dialed Strong Bad's number. All she had to do was ask.

**16\. Pie**

Strong Bad groaned loudly to himself. "This isn't working!"

"What isn't working?" 

The wrestler slid his pie dish in front of Marzipan and angrily gestured to the torn dough within it. "LOOK AT THIS MESS!" he shouted. He glared at his large, gloved hands. "I blame you guys!"

Marzipan gently nudged Strong Bad's side. "Hey, there's no need to be upset." She passed the dish back to him as well as a bowl full of water. "Just dip your hands— er, _gloves_ in here and just press the cracked dough back together, okay? It's not beyond repair."

Strong Bad did as she said and miraculously managed to put the dough back together with his bulbous gloves. "Hey, it worked!"

Marzipan smiled. "You see? Nothing to be upset about."

After finishing the crust, Strong Bad turned back to Marzipan. "Uh, hey, Marzy?"

"Yes?"

"If hands are needed in order to press the cracked dough back together, how exactly do _you_ fix it? You know, since you don't have—"

"Keep working, Strong Bad."

**17.** **Metal**

If there was one thing Marzipan knew for certain, it was that she did not like death metal one bit. She wasn't much of a fan of hair metal either, but death metal was on another level. The instrumentals were loud and, quite frankly, unsettling. The sinister vocals were not appealing to her in the slightest, and she was not very fond of how nearly every single song Strong Bad had her listen to had to do with death or evil or suffering of some kind. But she just had to grin and bear it if it made Strong Bad happy. Although, when Strong Bad was finished sharing his "jams" with her, she was definitely sharing her folk music with him.

**18\. Awkward**

Marzipan stared at the records in astonishment. Among the Limozeen and Taranchula LPs were a few of the Cool Tapes' singles. She smiled brightly as she pulled one of the records out of the shelf. "I didn't know you owned these!" she said. She didn't even know if he liked her music _at all._

"Own what?" As Strong Bad turned to face his guest, he immediately noticed what it was that she was holding in her invisible grip. Hastily, he swiped the record from her and tucked it carefully back into its spot in the shelf. "That doesn't belong to me. None of 'em belong to me! I'm just holding onto them for a friend!"

**19\. Mask**

"I've never seen you without the mask. Do you ever take it off?"

Strong Bad scoffed. "It's my face, dork."

**20\. Cold**

The pure, white snow crunched under the duo's weight as they trudged through the field. Every now and then, a freezing wind would blow past them, causing Strong Bad to shiver.

"Strong Bad, go back inside and get yourself a coat."

The shivering man next to her kicked snow ahead of himself emphatically. "Don't tell me what to do! You're not my mom."


	3. Chapter 3

**21\. Pair**

It has been said that the best things come in pairs. In Strong Bad and Marzipan's case, however, all that came from them was bickering. Lots and lots of bickering.

**22\. Red (but also purple, apparently)**

"That's a very lovely painting, Strong Bad! I like your use of analogous colors."

Strong Bad cocked his head to the side. "Analogous? What's that supposed to mean?"

Marzipan picked up his paintbrush and used it to point at the canvas. "Analogous colors are next to each other on the color wheel. Here, you used red and purple. Those two look very nice together."

Strong Bad smiled. "That was completely unintentional and I take full credit for it anyway."

**23.** **Night**

"I just love the night. The stars are out, the world goes silent, and the moon shines so beautifully against the dark sky."

"It's also the perfect time to go on a heist!"

**24\. Dark**

"It's getting pretty dark. We should probably make our way back."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Just hang on a second," Strong Bad murmured as he rotated his map. "I literally cannot see a  _thang ding_ in this darkness."

"Well maybe it would be easier if you used your flashlight."

Strong Bad stopped dead in his tracks. "Uh...flashlight?"

Marzipan's breathing quickened. "You didn't forget it, did you?"

Beads of sweat started to trickle down the wrestler's neck. "Maybe  _you_ should have brought your own!" he retorted. 

"I gave you a bag with _both of ours in it._ "

**25\. Movie**

The first Saturday of every month was a time that both Strong Bad and Marzipan looked forward to but also a time they both dreaded. On every first Saturday of every month, one of the two would choose a terrible movie to watch together and, most importantly, pick apart mercilessly. Riffing a film alone was fun, but making snappy comments at a film with another person was far more entertaining.

**26\. Concern**

He noticed how she kept averting her gaze from him. She had hardly spoken to him at all that day. When he asked if she needed time alone or if she was feeling all right, she would dodge the questions in an effort to change the subject. Soon, he gave up. If she didn't want to talk about it, _fine._

That didn't stop him from worrying, though.

**27\. Hot**

"I'd probably enjoy summer a whole lot more if it weren't so dang hot!" Strong Bad grumbled.

Marzipan clinked her glass of piemonade against his. "Preach."

**28\. Safe**

For years he had believed that the only way for people to like him was for him to be "cool." For him to be someone he was not. He would often play up his "achievements" and lie about himself in the hopes that maybe,  _just maybe_ , people would be tricked into thinking that he was cool. Someone confident. Someone worthy of praise. He believed that if he filed away all of his "unmanly" interests or traits, people would respect him. So when Marzipan invited him into her house to bake or cook, Strong Bad felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

He felt safe.

**29.** **Accident**

Strong Bad sat alone in the hospital's waiting room, anxiously rocking himself in his chair. He glued his eyes to one of the TV screens in an effort to distract himself from his thoughts. That proved ineffective. He didn't mean to do it. He didn't mean to hurt her— not again. Never again. Strong Bad brought his feet up and perched them on the seat of his chair and buried his face in his knees. "It won't happen again, I swear. It won't happen again."

**30.** **Protect**

"Hold up. So you're telling me that you carry around freakin' _pepper spray_ at all times?"

Marzipan flicked through the contents on her key ring. "Mm-hm."

"Is there anything else you do for self defense?"

"I usually just kick people, namely Coach Z, in the crotch."

Strong Bad looked at her in awe. "Whoa. No wonder I haven't seen him near your house in so long!"

"Oh, that's probably just due to the restraining order."

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm just going to put a (possibly unnecessary) warning here for prompt 38 "Show." It contains a character removing one of their body parts..? Yeah, totally something you'd wanna see in a Homestar toon, huh? It's not intended to be gory or violent or anything. It's supposed to be like a robot detaching one of its limbs. Except in this case, it's a cyborg. 
> 
> I'd also like to apologize for throwing Homestar under the bus.

**31\. Game**

"Since you didn't seem to like Mario that much, I decided to just have you play Sonic instead." Strong Bad stuck the SEGA Genesis cartridge into its console and passed his friend a controller. "I thought that you'd like this one much better 'cos instead of crushing critters under the heels of your shoes, you're freeing 'em from robotic husks! Plus the main character's a cute animal thing so, y'know, I figured you'd be into that."

**32\. Curiosity**

Marzipan looked over the wrestleman's shoulder. "Whatcha doing?"

"Makin' the new issue of Teen Girl Squad," he responded passively.

The woman leaned in closer. "Why are you hurting all the little girls in horrific ways?"

"Because that's the joke! It's funny!"

Marzipan looked at the drawings in disgust. "Violence isn't funny."

Strong Bad slammed his pencil onto the table. "Marzy, it's a freakin' comic. No one's really getting hurt. Now would you please,  _please_ just let me _work!"_

**33\. Acceptance**

She was hugging him and he had no idea why. Maybe it was because he had been gone for quite some time. He couldn't remember exactly how long he was gone for, but it must have been for a while. He also didn't know how she was hugging him. She literally had no arms or hands. Maybe it was a weird telekinesis thing.

When he realized that Marzipan wasn't going to let go any time soon, he slowly put his arms around her in an awkward attempt at returning her armless hug. "There. I have accepted my fate. You win. Are you happy now?"

"Yep."

"Can we stop doing this now?"

"Nope."

**34\. Open**

"I don't know if this is too much to ask but...could you try being a little more, I dunno, open? Not open as in you have to reveal every little detail about yourself! I'm just asking if you could try to be more...honest."

Strong Bad looked at her incredulously. "Open? You saying I'm not open?" He climbed on top of his friend's couch and crossed his arms. "I'm so open that I'm practically a door!"

Marzipan raised a brow. "I kinda have a hard time believing that." She stared down at her dress as she took a seat right next to her friend. "I'm sorry...Look, all I'm asking is for you to be, you know, more yourself. No more fake stories, no more pretending to be someone you're not. Does that make sense? Is that doable?"

Strong Bad turned his head away from her. "Nope. Unreasonable."

**35\. Rant**

"Gosh, he just... _really_ steams my dumplings sometimes!"

The wrestleman snickered. "'Steams your dumplings'?"

Marzipan nodded emphatically. "Yes! Sometimes he comes into my house and basically raids my fridge _without_ my permission and sometimes he just _waltzes right in_ with _Pom Pom_ —without my consent, mind you—and then there's just Cold Ones bottles _all over_ my carpet. And when I _do_ want to spend quality time with him, he's all like 'Nah, don't feel like it' and I just—I don't even know what's more important than spending quality time with your own _girlfriend_. Oh, and he takes me to the same place on all of our dates and..." The blonde inhaled deeply. "I'm breaking up with him again."

Strong Bad rested his chin on one of his hands and looked at his friend. "Y'know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think that you should do yourself and Homestar a favor and break up forever this time. Clearly the two of you aren't freaking happy with each other. I mean honestly, I don't even know why the two of you keep hookin' up considering how incompatible the two of you are. Every single time you guys split, you just get back together only to split again." He crossed his arms in frustration. "It's a never-ending cycle."

Marzipan sighed as she sunk into the couch's cushions. "You know, staying apart isn't as easy as it sounds. I don't..." She paused for a moment to draw in a breath. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered.

Strong Bad nudged his friend's side. "Well, you're not gonna be alone. You've got me, don't you?"

**36\. Sorry**

If he had never gotten to know her, he never would have apologized to her for anything. He hardly felt like he needed to. To him, it was fun to hurt people's feelings and make others feel miserable. Maybe it was his terrible way of venting. Or perhaps he really was all bad. But every time she smiled at him, welcomed him, and treated him like a friend, he felt something he wasn't sure he was even capable of feeling.

He felt sorry. Truly sorry. Guilty, in fact. 

He felt it in his gut that he needed to do something— _anything_ to make it up to her, if that was even possible.

So he subtly changed his behavior bit by bit. After all, the definitive way to say sorry wasn't with words, but with a change in action. Well, at least that's what he remembered her saying once.

**37\. Sick**

"Sorry that there's not much I can do for you. I don't exactly know how to treat sick people. I dunno how to treat myself if I'm bein' honest! I mean the last time I got sick I kinda just curled into a ball under my computer desk and barfed into a bucket whilst being surrounded by snot-covered tissue clumps."

Marzipan coughed loudly into her blanket. "No, it's ok. Company's good enough for me."

Strong Bad passed her a box of tissues. "You really mean it?"

The woman buried her head under her blankets. "Only if the company can make soup." She poked her head out to look at her companion. "Could you do that for me?"

Strong Bad scratched his head. "Uh...I guess I could try. Yeah. But like I said, there's not really much I can do."

**38\. Show**

Strong Bad stood anxiously in front of the orange sofa, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"What did you want to show me?" Marzipan asked as she looked around the basement.

"Well, you might wanna brace yourself for this one..." His voice lowered to a rather ominous whisper. "This isn't for the faint of heart."

"Strong Bad, you're scaring me."

The wrestleman tried to hide a tiny smile from breaking out as he turned his back to Marzipan and put his left hand out in front of him. "You bracing yourself?"

His guest nodded with uncertainty. "I guess so..."

Strong Bad put his right hand over his left wrist and rocked back and forth on his heels. "All right...here we go..."

With a swift movement, his left hand was yanked out of place. Many wires bridged the gap between his left hand and its respective arm. "Ta-da!" Strong Bad announced as he presented his hand to his guest.

Marzipan shrieked. "STRONG BAD!" She stared in horror at the dangling hand. "Y-you're—"

The wrestler tried to shush her between giggling fits. "I'm friggin' bionic! Sick, right? Oh, and I can do this with my face, too!" His friend continued to stare at his hand all while he continued to smile. "Ha ha! Um..." He looked at his hand. "...Could you help me put this back on?"

**39.**   **Guitar**

Having a window in his computer room had its upsides and downsides—the biggest downside being that it was most likely Homestar's way in. An upside to having the window was that when he had it open, he could sometimes hear the cheery twangs of his friend's guitar.

**40\. Sweater**

"Is it on?" the blonde asked. She could hear a frustrated sigh from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, it's on," her friend mumbled in reply.

"Let's see it!"

"But I look stupid in it!" Strong Bad whined.

"I'm sure you look fine."

After a brief silence, the door to the washroom slowly creaked open. Strong Bad stepped out in resignation, clad in a sweater handmade by Marzipan herself.

Marzipan beamed at her friend. "You look adorable!"

"I DO NOT!"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong Bad being a cyborg isn't even one of my headcanons for him. The idea just kind of came to me one night and I ran with it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: death and murder is referenced and heavily implied in prompt 44 "Cling." There's just...a whole lot of talk about death in that one. Death is also implied in prompt 46 "Denial."

**41\. Fight**

They had insulted each other. Shouted at each other. They had gone so far as to say that they wanted nothing to do with each other and that they'd both be much better off if they would never speak to one another again. This just made it all the more shocking when they both left their respective houses just to apologize for the fight that had transpired an hour before.

**42\. Truth**

"...Why do you spend time with me?"

Strong Bad stared at her in bewilderment. He tried to laugh off his initial shock but all that came out was some sort of strangled chuckle. "What? Why would you ask—" 

"I'm sorry if that sounded really out of the blue!" she cut in. She shifted her focus to anything but him. "...I was just wondering if...if maybe there was an ulterior motive to all this." 

His stomach dropped. He had hoped that after all this time, she had finally come to trust him. But no. All of his actions had to come from his selfishness, didn't they? That's what she thought, didn't she? He felt an anger rise in his chest but willed himself to force it back down. He knew that if he acted out then not only would she really have no reason to trust him, but he would ruin one of the few friendships that he actually had. And he was in no mood to lose her. "No," he said. "I mean, it sure _seems_ like something I'd probably do, but no. Absolutely not."

Marzipan looked at him hopefully. "We're really friends, then?" she asked. 

Tension left his body as relief washed over him. "Yes, Marzy. Of course we are."

**43\. Mistake**

"Ooh, she's gonna kill you for this, Stro Bro!"

The two men stared at the broken window their birdie had smashed through.

Strong Bad's gloved fists trembled as he pointed his racket at the athlete. "It's not  _my_ fault that you suck at badminton!" In a fit of frustration, anger, and fear, the masked man slammed his racket onto the grass. "She's never gonna trust me with anything ever again!"

**44\. Cling**

To the denizens of Free Country, death was nothing more than an empty threat. Numerous residents had been smashed, blown up, popped, and possibly even executed in the past but never once did anyone stay dead. They would simply continue to live their lives as if they hadn't just lost theirs moments ago. Now, if one were to devise a particularly stupid and dangerous caper that, if done incorrectly and handled rather foolishly, could be capable of collateral damage, it still would not be able to kill one permanently. But even so, he clung to her motionless body.

He reassured himself that he was in no rush to get her to a hospital. After all, he knew that she'd come back alive and well, perfectly free of any injuries or pain. Everything was fine! She would come back—she had to. That's just how life worked. She would wake up.

Everyone woke up.

**45\. Smile**

"Strong Bad, would you mind if I took a picture of you? It's for my intro to photography class."

Strong Bad crossed his arms. "You're still in that class? Didn't you first mention that back in, like, 2008—"

Marzipan produced her Polaroid camera from hammerspace and pointed it at Strong Bad. "Smile for the camera!"

The fleshtangle that was the wrestleman's mouth curved slightly into a fake smile. "There," he deadpanned.

Marzipan lowered her camera. "Come on, you can do better than that! Give me a genuine smile!"

Strong Bad's "smile" faltered. "Why do you even need me to smile? Why do you even want me in the dang photo anyway? Don't photography classes ask for pictures of trees, run down buildings, and train tracks and stuff? You're not gonna get an A for a picture of some random—albeit cool—guy smiling in a barren field."

Marzipan pressed the camera to her body and looked down. "Well I thought it would look nice..."

**46\. Denial**

Marzipan remembered a time long before she and Strong Bad became friends. A time when he would sneak up in front of her window and steal whatever baked goods she left out on the window sill. When she had caught on, she began to intentionally leave food out for him. Before long, it became a routine. She would leave something out for him, he'd take it, and if she was lucky maybe they'd talk.

Then they became friends, and the routine continued. And it continued to continue.

But then he stopped showing up. Before she knew it, three months had passed. Still, she waited, denying the idea that he would not come back.

Denying the fact that he could never come back.

**47\. End**

"Strong Bad, I hardly think this is necessary."

"Of course it is!" he said as he continued to push his friend towards Bubs' fallout shelter. "It's the freakin' End Times, man! This is like—"

"A giant meteor heading straight for the earth. Yeah, I know. But I can assure you that we'll be fine! Besides, if these really are our last moments, I really don't want to spend them in a smelly, crowded 'fallout shelter' with Coach Z."

**48\. Prank**

Sometimes the prank calls made her feel bad. They were usually very rude and annoying and were at times intended to physically harm her in some way. Yet despite all this, she couldn't help but find them funny. They were so utterly surreal and silly. Each time she listened to any of the prank calls, she wondered if Strong Bad knew that she could tell that it was him every single time. His calls would make her laugh and smile and fill her with a childlike glee that perhaps was the reason she never blocked his number.

"You know," she once said, "I actually kind of enjoy the prank calls."

Strong Bad stroked his chin. "Really?" he responded thoughtfully.

After that talk, Marzipan noticed that they came much more frequently.

**49\. Thought**

He thought that they were incompatible. Surely two people so unlike each other couldn't ever be friends.

She thought that they could never get along. Certainly someone like him would never want to associate with a "dirty hippie."

They thought wrong. And to their surprise, they were thankful that they did.

**50\. Laugh**

Strong Bad knew that he was good at making people laugh. That's why the website was so popular.

Although the laughter of hundreds—nay, millions of people was incredibly satisfying—and very validating—there was just something very special about making _her_ laugh. Maybe it was because he hardly ever heard her laugh. Or maybe seeing someone physically standing right there in front of him laugh was infinitely much more satisfying to him than, well, not seeing it at all. Her laugh was proof that he was actually funny—proof that he was truly good at something.

Or maybe he just liked making her happy.  _Sappy,_ he thought.

_Guess I'll keep doing it anyway._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this. And to those who left kudos while I was working on this, thank you. Your support really helped motivate me to stay and finish this fic. Nothing brightened my day more than finding out that several of you enjoyed the escapades of a wrestleman and his broom friend. Now, since this is my first fic, feedback is appreciated! Did I do the characters justice? Were they in character? Do you think the line between platonic and romantic were kinda blurred? Please let me know your thoughts!


End file.
